


Deirdre Snaps

by arc3670



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Gen, a shitload of dead dark mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arc3670/pseuds/arc3670
Summary: One nice summer day in Belhalla, the Book of Naga finds its way into the hands of Empress Deirdre. Approximately thirty minutes later, the Loptous Order experiences a sharp drop in membership.Got the idea for this after remembering how Brigid got all her memories back when she touched Yewfelle.
Relationships: Arvis & Deirdre
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

It was a risky plan. Tristan knew that. Oifey had made it incredibly clear: if he was caught, he would be tortured and killed. If the plan went awry and his escape was even slightly less than completely undetected, he would be struck down by Fenrir before he could take a step outside Belhalla. Even if the operation went completely smoothly, there was a decent chance he’d be killed in the fighting that would immediately ensue.

He’d known it was a suicide mission when he’d volunteered. Too much had already been lost, too much had been sacrificed to bring this plan to fruition. Somebody had to take this last step. If Tristan was going to go out, then a crazy, shot in the dark haymaker plan to save all of Jugdral in one fell swoop was the best way he could think of.

Tristan steeled his nerves as he made his way across the noble’s quarter of the city of Belhalla, toward the castle. He was dressed in the outfit of an Imperial agent that the resistance in Tirnanogue had kidnapped. The deep purple capelet on his right shoulder bore the insignia of the Loptous Sect, but rather than the thick robes of the Sect’s dark mages, he wore black leather armor. Men dressed like Tristan was now acted like Jugdral’s secret police; knocking on doors looking to root out would-be rebels and arresting any man, woman, or child they suspected of seditious intent.

In the satchel slung over his left shoulder was the Package. He patted it habitually. During the entire journey from Tirnanogue to the Imperial capital, Tristan hadn’t let it go so much as a foot away from him. It was without question the most valuable object he’d ever handled, and his mission was to deliver it to the proper person at any cost.

The Book had thrummed with power. Tristan was no mage, but it still made the hair on his arm stand up when he first touched it. Today, though, it was quiet. King Lewyn had told him it would, as if Naga themself understood the plan.

“Just you and me now,” he murmured. Just a horseman from Tirnanogue’s feeble resistance, and the physical vestige of the immortal sovereign of Jugdral. On the same team. It felt weird to think about it like that.

The gates of the castle came into view. It wasn’t the only castle in Belhalla, but the Imperial Estate was the largest by a considerable margin. Under the rule of Azmur fifteen years ago the enormous building had served as both the royal palace and the royal academy, but after Emperor Arvis’ purge of the aristocracy there was little need for the academy. The structure Tristan approached was now occupied solely by the Emperor’s family and the Loptous Sect.

It was still a busy place. There was a line at the gate as the guards checked each entrant’s cargo and papers. This was the first checkpoint. If the authorizations they’d stripped off the spy they’d caught hadn’t been filled out correctly, or were a trap from the start, the mission would fail. Tristan tried not to think about how many more checkpoints he’d have to clear, and focused on the one in front of him. He watched as the carpenter in front of him, hauling a cart full of furniture, was cleared for entry, and prepared his own papers.

“Back from the field?” asked one of the guards by the gate as he looked Tristan up and down.

“Yep. Tirnanogue. Beautiful this time of year,” he answered.

“I can imagine. Papers?”

Tristan unfolded his authorization and handed it over to the guard.

“Food’s awful, though. Visited last year. There’s this nasty little green vegetable. Tastes like piss,” said another guard as the first looked over Tristan’s papers.

“Broccoli?” Tristan said.

The second guard shook his head. “No, no, it’s smaller than that. The round little buggers.”

“Them’s peas, Barth,” the first guard said, not looking up from the papers. This was taking longer than the carpenter. Despite the inane conversation, Tristan felt his heart beating twice as fast.

“Yeah, those ones! Anyway, they use them with everything up there. Ghastly stuff,” the second guard said.

A memory suddenly flashed through Tristan’s head, of Lester trying to hide his peas under the lip of his plate while Lana forced him to eat them.

“I got used to them, but some people never do,” Tristan said.

The first guard finally looked up from the papers, and gave it a quick mark with the charcoal he was holding. “Seems like it’s all in order. You can go on in, then.”

Tristan had to try as hard as he could to stifle his sigh of relief. He took the papers back, folding and stowing them back in his satchel. “Thanks. See you on my way out,” he said.

The guards continued bickering about vegetables as Tristan walked between the immaculately trimmed hedges bordering the paved path to the palace’s entrance. His heartbeat had not gone back down after getting his papers cleared; he suspected it was going to stay like this until the very end.

Opposite him on the path walking toward the gate was a dark mage. Tristan could barely glimpse the figure’s face under their hood, but he could feel their eyes on him. He gave a curt nod to acknowledge their presence as they passed each other, and continued on his way. His hand rested on the Book’s satchel, reassuring him.

Rather than draw any closer to the palace’s main entrance, he took a side path that ran around the structure. He aimed to reach the gardens on the far side of the palace. Passing by a pure-white trellis entangled by beautiful vines and flowers, he wished he had more time to admire it. He’d never seen anything like this.

He pressed on, and passed another dark mage. He hadn’t the faintest idea what they were doing out here. The idea that the twisted monsters that ripped children from their mothers’ arms for human sacrifice could also enjoy the peaceful beauty of a rose garden disgusted Tristan.

Under a gazebo, he spied a pair of scholars having a conversation. The green cloth in their outfits suggested they served House Dozel, one of the few that had assisted in the conspiracy and so survived Arvis’ purge. Their conversation looked relaxed, Tristan guessed they were on break.

The path began to curve as Tristan made his way around the palace, drawing ever nearer to the target. His heart in his throat, he stopped to take a deep breath. If the empress was in the garden as expected, there would surely be guards with her. Guards far more competent than the ones at the gate.

All he had to do was get the book to her. Her memory would come back, she would remember her first husband Lord Sigurd, and she would become more powerful even than Arvis wielding Valflame. She would free Jugdral, so long as Tristan could move this book another two hundred feet.

This had been Lady Edain’s plan. King Lewyn, who had been present at the confrontation between Lord Sigurd and Arvis, had mentioned Empress Deirdre’s amnesia. Lady Edain had recalled her own sister, also suffering from amnesia, had regained her memories in an instant by laying a hand on the holy bow Yewfelle.

She just had to touch it. Just one finger. Tristan took a deep breath, and continued.  
He could hear children’s laughter over the hedges. It was loud, unrestrained. It would have been a very rare sound in Tirnanogue.

As he drew even closer, he could also hear a woman’s voice. It was too distant to make out words, but from the tone alone Tristan was certain it was the empress. It was a voice overflowing with kindness, exactly as Shannan had described.

Tristan paused. This was the home stretch. As soon as he rounded this next corner, he would come into view of her guards, and the plan would go hot. He had only a knife, stowed in his satchel, to fight his way through. He had no holy blood running through his veins, no magic weapons, no magic rings. It was Tristan of Tirnanogue against the most elite of the Imperial Guard.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself one final time, and confidently approached.

The first guards stopped him before he could even lay eyes on the empress. There were two in Tristan’s hedge corridor, but there were definitely many more if the empress’ perimeter was this wide. The taller one was a great knight, holding a gleaming silver axe in his hands. The shorter one wore even heavier armor and had no discernible weapon. A magic-wielding baron.

The great knight took a step forward and readied his axe. “Come no closer. State your business.”

“His Imperial Majesty requested I inform Her Imperial Majesty that he is taking lunch half an hour later than usual today,” Tristan replied.

“Why is His Imperial Majesty having messages delivered by Loptous agents, rather than the house servants?” questioned the baron.

“I had just finished my report to him. He thought it convenient.”

“And how convenient was it for you to reach us from the orbital path, rather than through the palace back entrance?” the baron said. The great knight took another step forward. “If you truly were reporting to His Imperial Majesty as you say, you would not be being apprehended in a hedge maze like a common thief who has stolen clothes above his station!”

Tristan cringed. He was so stupid, this was so stupid! Lady Deirdre was right there, he just needed to go a little bit further-

“Guards? Is there an issue?” came the empress’ voice. A moment later, she turned the corner.

She was without question the most beautiful woman Tristan had ever seen. She stood in a plum-colored dress with cascading locks of pure moonlight, about thirty feet past the guards, watching worriedly.

“Yes, empress. This man is dangerous. Make haste inside with the prince and princess,” the baron instructed. His words were filled with cold authority, but the empress remained put.

“Are you going to execute him?” she asked.

“Likely, your Imperial Majesty,” said the great knight. Tristan shuddered.

There was worry on the empress’ face, but Tristan could also make out a hint of something else. Was it anger?

“Hold. What does he stand accused of?”

The baron turned away from Tristan to face the empress. “He is lying about why he is here. He claims he has just come here from a meeting with His Imperial Majesty, yet he has arrived through the gardens.”

It was definitely anger. Lady Deirdre took a few steps closer. “You’re going to kill a man because he took the wrong path through the palace?”

“Your Imperial Majesty. This man is likely not who he says he is, and he has likely come here to kill you, or worse, the prince and princess. We cannot afford to take chances with your life on the line.”

Lady Deirdre took another precious step closer. “You have no proof he is an assassin! If you truly suspect him of malfeasance, then escort him somewhere and question him. I will not have you executing people for such small reasons!”

The baron was stunned silent. For a moment, nobody moved.

The empress took one more step. She was less than twenty feet away now. “What is your reason for seeking me out?”

“I…” Tristan began, “come bearing a message from your family.”

“Let him through,” Lady Deirdre ordered. The great knight lowered his axe, and the baron stepped aside. Tristan took two panicked strides forward, reaching into his satchel and drawing out the Book.

“Wait, is that-“

“STOP!”

It was too late. Without sparing a moment to greet or exchange words with the empress, Tristan thrust the Book into her hands.

“Kill them!” came a shout from far off, and an instant later the area was awash with dark magic. The great knight dropped dead in an instant, with the baron following close after him. Tristan fell to his knees at the foot of the empress, still clutching the book unmoving. The cold of Jormungandr flowed over him, its pain excruciating. He struggled to keep his head above the ground.

Before his life could finish ebbing away, he felt warmth above him, and the crushing darkness of Jormungandr abated. Still crumpled on the ground, he couldn’t help but smile with relief.

A moment later, the world went white.


	2. Chapter 2

Deirdre begs, pleads for the guards to spare the serving maid’s life. Her pleas go unheard. She feels a strange feeling come over her, and returns to her quarters and forgets the girl’s name.

Deirdre asks why such a large group of children is being brought into the palace, and if she could meet them. Manfroy curses, and makes eye contact with her. She feels a strange feeling as the archbishop explains that Julius and Julia are the only children at the palace.

Deirdre demands to know why Manfroy was teaching her son dark magic. After lambasting the archbishop for his carelessness with Julius, she returns to her bedchambers and forgets the whole thing.

…

Deirdre levels her hand to cast Aura, blowing open the cellar door behind which she’d heard all the screaming. Behind it stands only Archbishop Manfroy, who explains how silly this overreaction is and how she really should be getting back to bed. After considering things from his perspective, she agrees, and feels embarrassed for making such a scene.

…

Deirdre holds up a lovely blue forget-me-not and offers it to her husband, remarking how it matches his hair. This angers him for some reason, and later Manfroy comes to correct Deirdre on the color of her husband’s hair.

…

Deirdre begs, pleads for Arvis to spare Sigurd’s life. Her pleas go unheard. She’s dragged screaming back to the palace as Valflame erupts, killing the strange man who’d claimed to love her. She cries about it for weeks, unable to shake the feeling she knew that man and that her husband killed somebody important. As Arvis grows more and more angered by her despair over Sigurd, Manfroy eventually comes to help Deirdre forget.

…

“Prepare for your rebirth. After we erase your memories, we shall introduce you to your new husband. There’s no use fighting it. This is destined to be,” says the archbishop of the dark god. Deirdre feels her memories slipping through her fingers like sand, and desperately tries to hold onto even just one grain of her husband and beloved son.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.

Memories came flooding back, all at once. It was too much. Sigurd. Seliph. Oifey, Shannan, Ethlyn, Quan, Lachesis… All of them. Her precious friends, who had been taken from her, her very memory of them stolen from her head.

Deirdre was not a woman who was quick to anger. When she had lived in the Spirit Forest, she could have counted the number of outbursts she’d had on one hand. While she’d been married to Sigurd, there hadn’t been a single day she’d gone to bed unhappy. Even after her kidnapping, living her second life as Arvis’ husband, she had never grown angry enough to want to kill somebody.

But this… the shock of finding out the man she thought was her husband had actually murdered and replaced the man she truly loved, the shock of learning how she’d been nothing but a political chess piece to bring Arvis to power, and the shock of the devastation he had then wrought upon Grannvale... it was too much.

These people burned children at the stake. Killing them was necessary.

Deirdre held the Book of Naga in her left arm and gestured skyward with her right. The barest whiff of the Book’s power, and it blew through the dark magic swirling around her instantly. The shockwave tore through the courtyard, passing harmlessly over the inanimate objects but finding purchase on the hidden Loptous mages.

Screams of pain came from four separate locations, the light of Naga eating away at the servants of Loptous. Deirdre weaved the overflowing light from the tome into a form she was more familiar with, calling down four pillars of Aura to burn the dark mages to ash without even having sighted them through the hedges.

She’d let the shockwave pass over the normal guards for now. A commotion was building, both outside in the gardens and inside the palace. Deirdre looked down to the man who’d put the book in her hands, and helped him to his feet.

“What is your name?”

“Tristan, your majesty,” he coughed. “Your son yet lives. There is a resistance in Tirnanogue, led by Oifey and Shannan.”

Deirdre was so relieved she could cry. “Thank the gods. Thank you, Tristan, for saving me.”

“We need to go. What are you planning on doing?”

“First, I’m going to get my children to safety,” Deirdre said.

“Then?” asked the young man.

“Then,” Deirdre said in the greatest fury she could muster, “I’m going to kill every last child burning dastard in this country.”

Tristan nodded, picked up the axe from the fallen great knight, and the two of them ran through the hedges back to the gazebo where Julius and Julia were playing.

The royal twins stood under the gazebo with fearful expressions, Julius holding his sister’s hand. Four of Deirdre’s guards stood between her and her children, weapons raised.

“Empress, what is going on?” shouted her head guard. He had been one of her favorites, they'd even been friendly in the past, but now remembering all the horror he had no doubt been aware of, and seeing him between her and her children, she no longer held him in such high esteem.

“I’m ending the Loptous cult. Get away from my children,” Deirdre commanded.

Seeing Deirdre's blazing halo and eyes alight with holy fire, the four guards complied without hesitation. Julius and Julia paused as they passed the guards, then ran over to their mother’s side.

“Mom, what’s happening?” asked Julius.

“I’m scared,” said Julia.

Deirdre knelt down and patted each of them on the head. “Your mother has just found out about some very bad people that have been living in our palace. I’m going to kick them out, and make sure they can’t hurt anybody anymore.”

She spied movement in the windows of the palace, and another wave of dark magic surged toward them. The mass of darkness broke like a wave against a stone out in the air twenty feet from Deirdre, deflected effortlessly.

The Naga Major turned away from her children and approached the palace, raising her arm skyward. More dark magic was being directed towards her in a torrent, and she could even sense Fenrir spells being cast from mages miles away. Digging deeper into the book’s power, she trembled as she released the restrictions of structured magic and let the divine tome manifest in its most natural form.

A much greater shockwave burst forth, and the roar of the divine dragon resounded over Belhalla. The palace’s windows were shattered, several of her precious flowerbeds flattened. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was that there was no more dark magic being hurled down from the side of the palace facing her, its sources destroyed.

The Fenrir mages were still a problem, though. She could deflect them all day, but as long as they were firing, Julia, Julius, and Tristan would have to stay close enough for her to protect them.

Her four guards were having a crisis of loyalty. She had no doubt they had orders from Arvis and Manfroy to subdue her if she went berserk, and with the Book restoring her memories she could even remember a few times that had happened. However, facing down the heir of Naga at the apex of her power made them hesitant.

“Children, Tristan, stay close to me. We’re going inside to find your father,” she said.

“Empress… is this a coup?” her head guard asked.

“I don’t know. That depends on what the emperor has to say for himself.”

Deirdre held Julius’ hand, who held Julia’s, while Tristan followed close behind. They hurried toward the palace, leaving the guards alone in the garden.

“Are you going to kill father?” asked Julius. Deirdre’s heart panged. Her children couldn’t possibly understand what she was about to put them through.

“No, dear,” she said.

“Please don’t fight…” said Julia. Deirdre swallowed her pain. She could not promise that much.

The rear door into the palace had been shut and barred, but with the turn of a page of the Book it was blown off its hinges. Behind it was a semicircle of both imperial guards and dark mages, arrayed to stop Deirdre from reaching Arvis.

“Stand down!” she shouted with as much authority as she could manage.

“Kill her!” commanded a Loptous bishop, and the room was flooded with dark magic. Deirdre was knocked off balance by the force of their attacks, but quickly regained her footing and retaliated. The expanding sphere of golden light passed harmlessly over the imperial guard, but vaporized the dark mages like droplets of water on a hot pan. It happened so quickly that the guards were simply confused why the magic had stopped, until they checked behind them to find their mage support had been disintegrated.

“Stand down,” Deirdre ordered once more, the Book of Naga blazing with opalescent light.

The guards stood down.

She passed with her children and Tristan through the gap they had made for her, heading toward the great hall.

Finally she emerged into the palace’s largest room, and saw on the balcony across it the man she was looking for. He wasn’t dressed for battle, but Deirdre could see and feel Valflame tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Deirdre! What are you doing?!”

“No, what are YOU doing?” Deirdre shouted back. “You took my memory!”

The Book of Naga flared up, the empress’ golden aura widening and intensifying.

“You lied to me for fifteen years!”

The light began to take form as she unleashed the full power of the holy weapon. An enormous spectral dragon filled the great hall, rearing its head and letting loose a beam of holy fire that punched straight up through the roof of the castle and lit the sky of Belhalla like a beacon.

“Deirdre, my love, you must stop!” Arvis cried out.

“How dare you call me that!” Deirdre screamed, casting her hand forward. Naga responded, lowering their head back down into the building and coming face to face with Arvis on his balcony. “You killed my husband right in front of me, and then forced me to marry you!”

“I never meant for it-“

“I don’t care WHAT you meant! You ripped me away from my husband and infant son, and forced me to live for fifteen years as somebody I never wanted to be! You plunged Grannvale into chaos! They’re _burning children at the stake,_ Arvis!”

Arvis cowered before the divine dragon, their eyes and Deirdre’s both judging him. “I wanted to destroy the Loptous Sect after becoming emperor! They threatened my life, yours, and the children’s to keep me in line!”

“You think our one family was worth more than the thousands of others that have been torn apart by your choices? I would have died happy, if I’d known it was to save Jugdral from what you’re doing to it!”

The emperor winced. “It was the only choice I thought I could make.”

“Then let’s fix it right now! There’s no reason this has to go on any longer,” Deirdre said. She flipped the Book shut, the golden aura in the room quickly flowing back into it. Arvis looked conflicted, and more than a little bit frightened, but after a moment to think he seemed to steel himself.

“I understand. Let us begin. This world will once again be reborn by my fire, but this time-“

Deirdre cut him off. “Good. Stay here and guard the children. I’m going down to the cellar.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, there were no more Loptous bishops in the imperial palace.

Deirdre blew open the huge iron doors separating the palace wing from the old academy wing that was now occupied by the Loptous Sect. Instead of finding the vibrant academy halls that Sigurd had described to her, she found a dim, dank, depressing building that was the shadow of its former self. Golden light radiated from her, illuminating each empty room she stormed through.

There were no signs of dark mages anywhere, but as she reached the central stairwell she could hear a commotion from the lower levels. Screaming, and the clanging of metal. She hurried down the stairs as fast as she could, and was greeted by another enormous iron door sealing away whatever fell chambers lay ahead.

This bulkhead must have been reinforced with magic. It took two shockwaves to blast off its hinges, rather than just one.

The combat began immediately. Deirdre didn’t have time to take stock of the room’s contents, her vision flooded by darkness and horrific imagery. She raised her arms, the spells passing harmlessly past her, then punched forward. The sphere of golden light nullified the mages’ onslaught, and brought the room to a standstill.

The academy cellar had been desecrated. The walls were covered in unholy markings, written in blood. At the far end of the room there was an altar of sacrifice, and set into the floor was a gladiatorial pit filled with spikes and chains.

Deirdre gasped as her attention was drawn to the side. Both walls were lined with crude iron cages, filled with children. There had to be at least thirty in this hall alone, most of them near in age to her Julius and Julia, and many even younger. Her fury burned white hot.

“Stand down, Naga’s blood, or the children will pay for your disobedience,” whispered one of the bishops in a decrepit voice. The air grew cold as the array of dark mages in front of her began to cast.

“Not one more,” Deirdre said, and the Book reacted to her anger. “Not a single child more!”  
The specter of Naga appeared behind her and let loose a deafening roar. The room was flooded with raw light magic, washing away the dark mages’ spells like a hurricane. She walked into the room, holy fire burning in her eyes, and Naga followed step for step.

“WHERE. IS. MANFROY,” she demanded, her voice and Naga’s in harmony. The dragon’s giant claw stepped on a dark mage, crushing him to cinders.

“He is gone, witch,” said the bishop. “Forever beyond your grasp-“

Deirdre gestured hatefully, casting Aura and burning him from the world.

“MANFROY,” she and Naga demanded again.

“We will not talk. We will never betray Lord Loptous!” cried another dark mage, and suddenly they all drew knives and rushed her-

-Like moths to a flame. Deirdre screamed, and Naga filled the room with holy fire. The heresy scrawled on the walls, burned away. The chains, spikes, and torture devices, melted and vaporized. The cages, blown open. Not a single trace even remained of the dark mages. Only the innocent had been spared, Naga’s cleansing flame passing harmlessly over them.

“Damn it… DAMN IT!” Deirdre yelled, not even listening to the crying and cheering of the now-freed prisoners. This had all been happening under her own roof. Children forced to fight to the death not two hundred feet from where she had slept peacefully, for fifteen years. If only she’d tried harder, gotten further on that one time she’d found it…

Tears in her eyes, she continued further in, leaving the prisoners to their own devices. Naga’s titanic spectral form was unable to fit into the smaller corridors, and so vanished back into the book. Her own blazing halo still remained, however.

She cleared the palace cellar, room by room. Each dark mage that accosted her became a human-shaped shadow on the scorched wall behind them. Each of the less-faithful mages, unwilling to die for their lord and hiding in the dark recesses of their base, met similar fates.

Deirdre felt sick. She’d never killed like this before. She had fought for her life when she and Sigurd had been ambushed by the forces of Verdane in the Spirit Forest, and she had turned her magic on enemies during the crisis in Augustria, but she’d never killed so many in such a short time. They couldn’t even fight back against the Book of Naga. It was a massacre.

It was necessary, she reminded herself. It was for the children. She imagined her own Julius and Julia back in those cages, maybe even Seliph…

She paused for a moment and tried not to vomit. After steadying herself, she continued on.


	4. Chapter 4

“So. To whom do I owe the pleasure?” asked the emperor.

“Tristan of Tirnanogue, sir.” 

“Tirnanogue… I suppose you hail from an entire nest of seditious traitors hiding out there, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

The two of them stared at each other in the great hall, now exposed to sunlight through the massive hole in the roof. The royal twins stuck close to their father, wary of Tristan.

“So tell me-“

A distant explosion rocked the building, and dust drifted down from the ceiling. After looking around for a moment, the emperor continued.

“Tell me, how did you even reach the empress?” he asked. Emperor Arvis was speaking remarkably calmly. It was as if he’d given up.

“I wore a Loptous agent’s armor and walked in the front gate,” Tristan explained.

Arvis simply sighed. “I suppose the guards should be disciplined, if they survive this mess.”

“I expect they will. They didn’t seem the type to die for you. Plus, Lady Deirdre appears to be sparing the normal guards.”

Julius came out from behind Arvis’ cape. “Hey, you have to call her ‘Her Imperial Majesty!’”

Tristan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Prince Julius is correct. You would do well to show more deference-“

Another explosion, larger this time, reverberated through the building, accompanied by the sound of a dragon’s roar.

Arvis abandoned his train of thought. “Perhaps we should be going.”

###### ENDINGS

Tristan – After the battle at Belhalla, Tristan rode with the imperial family north to Tirnanogue, where he joined up with the rest of the resistance to accompany the empress in her trek around the continent clearing out the Loptous Sect. He was given high honors by the new government, and continued working as a knight for a while before getting married and retiring.

The Gate Guards – The guards that had let Tristan slip past survived the carnage that followed, and were able to lay low during the ensuing war. However, a year later they all received a summons to the imperial palace. Expecting to be punished, they were instead surprised when Empress Deirdre thanked them all, for without their mistake Grannvale could never have been freed.

Julius – After finding out that the young prince was to become the vessel of the dark god, he was placed under the strictest security measures. This was a stifling and incredibly difficult portion of his life, but after the Loptous Cult was all but expunged, his parents relaxed his security, and found him a magic tutor in the form of a red-haired bishop from Thracia. Julius later entered the priesthood himself, where he served faithfully for the rest of his life.

Julia – As the first heir to the empire, Seliph, did not inherit the major blood of Naga, a minor crisis of succession took place. It was eventually resolved by agreement between the half siblings: Baldr’s descendants would become the new imperial line, while Heim’s would be granted the duchy of Chalphy. Duchess Julia ruled with a kind heart, and lived very frugally for a noble. Later in her life, she married a minor noble of Augustria, and had two children. She was never forced to draw up the Book of Naga for war.

Seliph – The young heir to the legacy of Sigurd was very surprised to hear one morning that the rule of the Loptous Sect had been annihilated overnight. After a very tearful reunion with his mother, the two of them took up arms and began a campaign to wipe Loptous’ followers from Jugdral and end the Child Hunts once and for all. Once the war was over, he remained faithfully at his mother’s side until she abdicated the throne, and after several years of talks and negotiation as emperor, he dissolved the empire and returned Jugdral’s nations to their rightful rulers. He married Lana, his childhood friend from Tirnanogue, and had three children.

Arvis – The Emperor of Flame never wielded executive power again. He brought Seliph the holy Tyrfing, but after the campaign he was stripped of his title and position, and he lived out the rest of his days in a mansion in exile. As concerns arose as to who would inherit Valflame, Arvis conferred the holy tome to Saias in secret. Years later, the line of Fjalar was announced to have been “rediscovered” in the daughter of a minor Thracian noble.

Deirdre – Upon regaining her memories, the Empress of Grannvale went on a wild tour of liberation with her ex-husband, first son, and Tirnanogue’s liberation army. They went from city to city, shattering cult strongholds. Manfroy made his last stand at Darna. Once the threat had been destroyed, she devoted herself to healing her wounded nation. After the shows of force displayed in their cities, Dannan and Blume were quick to fall in line with the new head of state. Wave after wave of radical policies were put into place to help the common folk, governing Jugdral the way she and Sigurd had dreamed about. Hers was a rule of kindness and prosperity, lasting until she abdicated the throne at the age of fifty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I had a couple more ideas to do with this premise, but they either weren't good enough that I wanted to write them, or would be better suited for other fics. They are:
> 
> -Deirdre soloing the Twelve Deadlords
> 
> -Deirdre and Arvis hunting down Manfroy to Velthomer and killing him
> 
> -Julius and Julia meeting their big brother Seliph
> 
> -Arvis signs divorce papers
> 
> See ya!


End file.
